Carry With You
by Nozomi ga Kanau
Summary: Snippet of how Neytiri wound up with the five fingered hand print on her chest during the final battle. Rated G, Neytiri/Jake


Authors note: I haven't written fanfiction in a very long time. All 'facts' in this fic were taken directly from the movie as I saw it; I didn't look anything up, I don't have the guide. This spawned simply from me seeing Neytiri's war paints.

I do not own Avatar. It belongs to James Cameron and those associated with the movie. This particular fic is dedicated to lithle. I adore you 3

-Noz

**Carry Me With You**

The Na'vi had only eight fingers. Humans called the lacking digit the 'little finger'; it assisted with griping and subtle movement, along with rounding the count of fingers to an even ten. The aliens found little use for the extra two and dismissed them as 'useless'.

Three months in, Jake could understand their view with that, among other things. His pinkie got in the way when trying to notch the Omitacaya arrows into their thick, stubborn bows, often caught in his ikrans harness when he attempted to situate it. The only task made easier by the cumbersome flesh-and-bone came to them by surprise; Neytiri had thought wise to add more beads, a feather or two to her hair. She had been quite pleased when Jake managed to maneuver the decorations with a deft precision, dubbed the two fingers to be quite useful in styling the loose hair.

Even on the verge of war, Jake didn't know whether to take that as a compliment. Marines weren't supposed to be known for their abilities in making people pretty but instead for carrying out the sort of missions he was about to carry out – the sorts filled with murder, chaos, and blood on his hands.

Neytiri smiled in the moments before they went to their banshee's. Her hands had been covered in war-paint, yellow in their glory. Those calloused fingers trailed over his face with the most tender of care. She killed with those hands, took the breath from animals with the swiftest movements – even humans, the ones with hearts not as strong as his own.

"My Jake," she said in that soft timbre she held shortly before and after intimacies, her eyes focused on the patterns whorled onto his cheeks. He knew Neytiri felt him watching him. She didn't look up. "This will be dangerous."

"I'm the one with the machine gun and hand grenades," Jake tipped his head back, allowed her to track two thick lines down the plane of his throat. He wanted to ask if she thought they were prepared, if Niyteri, the warrior princess, found fear in her heart over the thought of all out war. It'd be the sort of question that would earn him a flicked back set of ears and a sharp-toothed hiss. A reassurance of their good health would be met with much the same.

"You are not funny," a hard tap to his chest with one sharp nail. Jake twitched and laughed, an action soon followed by a soft chuckle from his mate. Her hands moved to his shoulders, circles along the muscles atop his arms, just near his neck. He closed his eyes to enjoy the simple touch.

Earth had been nothing like this. No trees grew from diseased soil too many times toiled by its human masters, no women had noticed anything beyond the chair and half-dead, half-crazed eyes of a war vet too far gone. How could a man miss what he had never known? The lush forests of Pandora were just stories on Earth, the sort of mythical thing a parent told their children before bed and none of them ever brought up the native tribes nestled in the depths of the world.

He would miss it desperately if he left now, that much Jake knew. Even without Neytiri and her hands decorating his sides, if sent back, he would cry out in his dreams for the viperwolves and those silly spinning lizards that had been present the first time he and his mate bonded. Jake squirmed, snorting in the unexpected tickle to his ribs. Neytiri, gently, gave the lengthy rope of hair a pat.

"What?"

Her question caused a smile. Jake stepped back from the Omaticaya warrior woman, leaned down to dip his hand in the same canary colored goop. Neytiri paused, her large eyes on his face now, wary. She began to speak, her tone one of warning, but cut off as abruptly as it began when he scraped a good portion back into the large containers.

"We could die," Jake cocked his head to the side. He wriggled his five fingers experimentally until the excess liquid dripped down to the ground. Neytiri shifted, either uncomfortable or excited with the possibility, her tail twitching. "It's my turn to paint you, isn't it?"

"Yes," Slow, still ever so considerate to what he may be getting to. "That is not what we do to put on the paints, Jake. You need only two fi—"

Jake leaned forward, pressed his palm and fingers against her chest, over her heart. It beat wildly against his touch, as heavy as that first night in the sacred trees. Neytiri didn't jump but stood there, her large golden eyes staring down at his five-fingered mark against her vivid cobalt flesh. He pulled back carefully, leaving a near perfect hand print.

"No matter what happens, you will have a piece of me with you."

Whatever reaction he had expected, it had not been Neytiri taking his skull in her lemon hands and pressing her lips to his forehead. Jake stilled, blinked up at her with the slightest of smiles.

"Oh, Jake," A sigh, warm and fluttering at the high hairline, "I will carry you with me. We will be together."

He smiled, a slow, hesitant thing, and traced the faintest lines down her arms. "It is time to go save our world, Neytiri."

Neytiri pulled back. Her smile overshadowed his, their pulses matching for that brief second before she let herself fall back. Jake touched her arm then, her hair, her cheek, and began to paint.


End file.
